


Like The Tide

by stevergrsno (noxlunate)



Series: Happy Steve Bingo Fills [20]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Happy Steve Bingo, M/M, Magical Realism, Magical Steve Rogers, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Selkie Bucky Barnes, Selkies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-08-23 11:30:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16618145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noxlunate/pseuds/stevergrsno
Summary: The older boys scatter, the bundle of grey dropping to Steve’s feet as they run from the whispered fears of the Rogers family.Steve picks up the bundle, running his fingertips over the soft fur for just a moment and then holding it out, “I’m Steve.”“Bucky.” The boy says and Steve is caught, stuck in place by the smile spread across Bucky’s face.In which Bucky is a selkie, Steve loves him, and it really is as simple as that.





	Like The Tide

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this post on tumblr:](http://dateagirlwhosweird.tumblr.com/post/163981621981/date-a-selkie-but-dont-hide-her-cloak-let-her)  
>  _"date a selkie, but don’t hide her cloak. let her go home and visit her family now and then, knowing that she’ll come back and hang her seal cloak in the closet like she always does. trust is important."_
> 
> Written to fill the loyalty/devotion square for my Happy Steve Bingo!

****When Steve meets him Bucky is eight years old and has bloody knuckles and red eyes and a group of older boys are playing keep away with a mass of bundled up grey, throwing it between them with mean smiles that make Steve feel like he’s vibrating with rage.

Steve can feel the magic tingle in his palms, in the clench of his fists, and a trash can lid blows itself sky high. There are whispers about Steve’s ma’s family. They say that they’re old magic, tricksters, maybe even _fae_ . Steve tries not to take advantage of the fear, and his magic is still wild and uncontrollable, so there’s not a threat in the world he could use it to back up, but it doesn’t stop him from storming forward in what his ma keeps telling him is _righteous fury._

“Leave him alone or I’ll- I’ll- I’ll give you all boils!”

It’s not as threatening when he can’t even think of a good threat but his magic helps him, the trash cans rattling ominously and a car backfiring in the distance.

The older boys scatter, the bundle of grey dropping to Steve’s feet as they run from the whispered fears of the Rogers family.

Steve picks up the bundle, running his fingertips over the soft fur for just a moment and then holding it out, “I’m Steve.”

“Bucky.” The boy says and Steve is caught, stuck in place by the smile spread across Bucky’s face.

 

In an apartment two blocks away and seven stories up Sarah Rogers feels the shift of magic, the slow curl of connection, the taste of salt water on the back of her tongue, the whisper of a sea breeze in her hair, and the first spark of _something._

“ _F_ _uck_.” She mutters, elbow deep in the previous days dishes.

 

They kiss for the first time when Steve turns 18.

Fireworks light up the sky above them and Bucky has slung his pelt around their shoulders, their ankles and knees knocking where they dangle from the fire escape.

“Hey Stevie?” Bucky’s voice is hushed, their shoulders pressed together and when Steve twists to look at him his eyes are blue like the sea.

He misses it, Steve knows. The Barnes family has gone to the sea for the summer but with the death of Sarah Rogers still aching like a fresh wound he’d refused to leave Steve behind.

Steve knows he shouldn’t be glad Bucky wouldn’t go, but he is.

“Yeah, Buck?”

“Happy birthday.” And then there are hands on Steve’s jaw, careful and calloused, and a mouth against his own.

Bucky tastes of the sea, pulls him in like the tide, and Steve doesn’t know if the fireworks are in the sky or zinging along through his veins.

 

The summer after they graduate college finds them in their first apartment together.

Bucky hasn’t spent more than a few days in the sea since Sarah Rogers died. He’s claimed it’s because he’s too busy- with school, with work, with any number of things that mean he needs to be on land and easily reachable. Steve knows better.

Their boxes are still half unpacked when Steve wraps Bucky’s cloak around his shoulders, smoothing his hands over the broad slope of them and leaning up for a kiss.

“ _Go._ Swim. Be with your sisters,” Steve says, “I’ll be fine here for a few weeks. I might even enjoy the peace and quiet.”  

“We just moved in. I should stay,” Bucky says, half hearted at best. Steve can see it. Hell, Steve has been seeing it for months or maybe even years. The urge to wrap up in his skin in something bigger than a tub, to sink himself beneath the waves for more than a few days.

“What, you think I can’t unpack by myself?”

“I don't- You just-” Bucky starts and cuts off with a frown, narrowing his eyes at Steve. Steve’s sure he knows exactly what Steve is doing, “Alright, alright. I’ll go.”

Steve smiles, incredibly pleased with himself even if it _is_ going to mean time away from Bucky. “That’s what I thought you’d say.”

“I’ll come back,” Bucky promises, his arms curling around Steve, wrapping the both of them up in the soft folds of his cloak.

Steve huffs, snuggling into Bucky and the familiar weight of the cloak tucked over them. “Like I ever thought you wouldn’t.”

 

There are people in the world, terrible people who use their fears as an excuse, who like to claim that selkies can be as wild as the sea if they are allowed. They claim that selkies are dependable, loving spouses, but you must give them a reason. You must take their skin and hide it away where it can’t be found or else you will wake one day to an empty bed, as cold as the deep blue sea.

Steve thinks there is a difference between dependable and _trapped_.

 

Abigail Barnes streaks along the beach, kicking up sand, twelve years old and the last of the Barnes siblings to be born before George Barnes died and Winifred dug her cloak up from where he'd hidden it beneath the floorboards.

Steve watches from his spot on a blanket next to Winifred, wrapped up in Bucky’s cloak as Bucky chases after his little sister, catching her around the waist and throwing her shrieking into the water.

“Thank you,” Winifred says, soft and just between her and Steve, her arm curling around Steve’s shoulders to drag him into her side.  

“All I did was tell him to get out of my hair for the summer. I could use the quiet.” Steve says, light and easy, letting himself settle in like he’s still ten years old gathered around Winifred with the Barnes children.

Winifred shakes her head at Steve, smoothing long, weathered fingers through Steve’s hair and brushing a kiss to the top of Steve’s head. “I’m a nice person so I’ll let you go on pretending that’s the reason, dear.”

 

The summer slowly dwindles down, feeling to Steve like it takes years instead of months. Eventually however, it comes to pass and he finds himself on the beach, waiting. The moon shines full and bright above, lighting up the water so that Steve can see when a head bobs above the water before dipping back down.

Steve’s on his feet, stumbling towards the water’s edge as Bucky gets closer and closer. And then in the time it takes to take a breath there’s a shifting of air, a ripple, and Bucky is on two legs and stumbling towards Steve, his coat wrapped around him like a cloak and shining.

A few more hurried steps and they collide, bodies crashing into each other as waves crash around their waists.

“I missed you,” Steve gasps, wrapping himself around Bucky, determined in that moment to fit as closely as his cloak.

“I missed you,” Bucky says back, voice rough, hand curling tight around Steve’s thigh, the other pressed against his back- pressing him close, like maybe he wants Steve just as close as Steve wants to be.

 

Years later they pack their belongings once more and move into a house by the sea. It’s small and cluttered, but Bucky falls asleep to the sound of waves crashing on the shore just outside their door and Steve basks in the bright light that fills the place when he paints, and with Bucky’s cloak hung on a hook near the door and Steve’s paint brushes filling jars that line the windowsills it’s _home_.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Come chill with me [on tumblr!](http://stevergrsno.tumblr.com/tagged/my-writing)


End file.
